Everywhere
by Evey Claire
Summary: Claire/Myrnin. Amelie sends Claire away from town to live a normal life but it comes back to haunt her after Myrnin finds her while searching the web. Sucky summary, centered around a convo between Myrnin and Amelie :DD
1. Found her!

"I found her," Myrnin whispered. Hope and desperation seeped into his eyes all at once, creating a swirling mass that only could be identified as pain.

"Found who?" Amelie casually asked with a bored tone, not bothering to glance up from her paperwork. Stacks of white paper and manila envelopes towered around her in neat rows and piles. Myrnin continued to stare at her, mentally sending a message of his sudden and onset panic and hoping she would get it. It would be much too hard to explain. His eyes flashed back to the computer screen and then back to her face. Computer screen, her face. Screen, face.

With a tired moan he swung up from his seat at his desk and quickly strode across the threadbare, somewhat red carpet over to her, slamming his palms down on the table in front of her and sending the neat stacks of papers drifting into the air.

Finally, with a slightly amused look, Amelie raised her grey eyes to meet his black ones.

"Her," Myrnin whispered again, more desperately this time, more forcefully. His eyes clouded over to a muddy red with panic and he felt the instinctive need to bite something, to bite something hard. That look confirmed who it was; only two people in the world could put Myrnin in that state of sheer desperation and one of them was dead, several times over. Amelie tilted her head to the side, assessing his mental state and stared him down long and hard, telling him he had better be sure.

"Are you sure it's actually her?" Amelie inquired, as if she didn't trust Myrnin to understand her. He didn't even stir under her gaze or rise to meet it with his own mockery as he usually did and this alone showed her that he believed with all his heart that it was truly her indeed.

"God damnit, Amelie, of course I'm sure. I couldn't be more sure about anything in my entire life. I think that _I _of all people would be able to know if it was truly her or not, after all she is still linked to me," he almost yelled, flinging his hands in the air, much like an exasperated mortal. He spun on his heel and set about pacing up and down the room, in front of Amelie's desk and back, at a break-neck speed, hands clasp firmly behind his back. He shook his head as if it could actually clear his thoughts and Amelie heard his fangs slide down with a sharp snap.

He continued pacing for several more moments, almost acting as if he were waiting for Amelie to stop him, which she wouldn't. She was very content to let him continue until he returned to this world, well that is until he came back or wore a path in the floor, whichever came first.

After a good hour or so of him pacing and muttering, followed by more muttering and pacing she let out a long sigh to show her discomfort. At this he twirled back around and returned to the position he had been in before with his palms spread on her desk. He leaned in close, pushing her authority and daring her to object.

"What?" Myrnin growled in a perfectly impolite tone. Teeth bared and eyes red, this was quite a menacing sight to see but to Amelie it was only a familiar one that showed his underlying hurt. She really did hate to see him hurt, after all he did do a lot for her, much more than most and he deserved something to reward it, but she also hated it for it only showed his as weak, as human. His hurt and pain was self-made, caused only by him refusing to live with the emotions of the immortal, he too often fell for the innocent humans, fated to die and suffer before him. It was disrespectful to himself to let his human side shine through and to do it so publicly. Amelie shuddered, it was much easier to lock the guilt and compassion away and act as if there was none. She herself was a master of emotions, of controlling them and when she felt them, but not even a master could stop the experience of them. All vampires, to their great dismay, felt the same amount of emotions that humans did, but in a more detached state and decades of remorse weighed heavily upon the soul and caused one to act brashly. This brashness only led to more death and more pain in the end. This was why young vampires could be so dangerous. Only fledglings in control, they sprinted away from reason and instinct and let their emotions run wild, guided by a still heart. Amelie knew that these emotions dubbed as "human" feelings were dangerous not only to the vampires but to their mortal companions as well.

She shook her head and sighed again, self- control was not something that Myrnin was familiar with, let alone something that he would have exerted upon himself.

"You can't let this get to you Myrnin, dear. I sent her away for a reason, I did not want you to find her again and so soon at that," Amelie looked at him with cold eyes, a glint of suspicion gliding into them like fog, "In fact, I specifically ordered you not to look for her," her eyes narrowed even more, "Why must you always disobey me?"

"I-I-I didn't, your grace. I came upon her by accident. It seems that my little bird has gone and made herself famous," he stuttered out, his last words once again turning into a breathy whisper and dread creeping over him, "Very famous indeed."

"Famous?" Amelie said questioningly, cautiously, "Whatever for? Has she gone on to be the great scientist that she always envisioned?" Something about the way Myrnin was standing told her that was about the farthest thing as to why she was now "famous".

"No," he whispered hoarsely. He turned away from her desk once again, ripping his hands through his messy black curls and rubbing his eyes in frustration. He had returned back to his manic pacing.

"How could she do this? How could she do this to herself, to all of us, to me? Amelie, I can't stand to see her like this, this, this _obsession_ created by libidinous mortals, lusting after her beautiful body!" he finished, panting from the emotional exertion.

Amelie arched one frosted eyebrow and leaned back into the plush chair, wishing for her own straight backed one in her own office, but no of course they couldn't sift through Myrnin's journals in her own office, they had to do it here, in this fragmented laboratory. She easily glanced around, taking in the true extent of the decay.

The place had gone back into a seemingly endless mess, broken glass and benches piled into corners, cobwebs dangling from the ceiling, dust, inches thick, laying over torn books and papers. There were precariously piled boxes in masses of 6 ft high and a bent and twisted, metal telescope thrown on top of a smashed globe and random bolts and gears were scattered across the scratched floor. It was an absolute disaster.

"You should clean," was all she said, looking around once more and wondering how she could stand to let herself be in this place, it looked abandoned. It even smelled abandoned, she thought, a stench of dust, rotting paper, corroded metal, dead wood and old blood assaulted her. Myrnin of course fit perfectly into this dilapidated room with his mismatched, stained clothes, matted hair and dirty skin. She really hadn't released exactly how much he had wasted away until today.

Myrnin spun to face her with fangs back once again and eyes a brilliant red; he looked like a madman. Pure rapture hung, suspended in time in his inky wells. He was in a plethora of pain and fear.

She only pitied him.

"Amelie please," he begged, "This is my Claire and I simply can't stand to see her like this, all exposed to the world." A hint of desperation was clouding his voice.

"Myrnin, you're making it sound like she's turned herself into some sort of public courtesan or porn star," Amelie said, tilting her head slightly to make it seem as though that was simply impossible and Myrnin was a total fool for making it sound that way.

"Well, with what she's doing, she might as well be," he muttered bitterly, hanging his head.

Despite the fact that Myrnin was a "drama queen" his reaction had startled Amelie and she was beginning to wonder if something might actually be wrong, not that what Claire did anymore was any of their business. Amelie wouldn't even think to stop her if Claire decided to find a career in prostitution. It would be a shame though, the girl was rather ingenious.

"Show me," she said.

Myrnin darted back to the computer pulling up tab after tab, showing Amelie article after article about Claire. There were press conferences, interviews, and talk show appearances on YouTube. Several news sites had more interviews, bios, dates for appearances and her face graced the covers of several tabloids and fashion magazines. There were even ads featuring her on random web sites and she could be found on a pop up commercial for Cover Girl. Teen magazines blared her name, promising her personal secrets to beauty and several tabloids claimed to have the scoop on her new "hottie". Links appeared to inform people about her newly updated imdb page and wiki page, even more were to her latest fashion dos and don'ts, and Google Images was filled with her magazine covers, shots of her at the beach and on the red carpet and photo shoots that she had recently done. She was literally everywhere.

Amelie gasped and stepped away from the screen, very little could truly shock her but the amount of press little Claire had created in one single year was astonishing. It seemed that she wasn't a hooker after all but an illustrious and respected actress, singer and model. She was very famous indeed.

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	2. Songs of the Heart

**Hello fiction readers! Throughout this chapter I quote several songs, claiming them to be the works of young "pop star Claire" Here at this point, I would like to acknowledge the amazing artists who wrote these wonderful songs. Acknowledged in the order of appearance:**

"_**Disturbia"**_** by Rihanna **

"_**Run the World"**_** by Beyonce**

"_**Uprising"**_** by Muse**

"_**Meds" **_**by Placebo, ft. Alison Mosshart**

"_**Vox Populi"**_** by 30 Seconds to Mars**

**Firstly I would like apologize for any mishaps in the lyrics! If you want a complete list (and beware it is quite a long one!) of the songs that inspire me about Morganville ask me for it, I would be glad to oblige you!**

"Do you see now? Do you see what she has done? This is terrible!" Myrnin yelped, jumping up from his seat.

Amelie blinked, the shock evident on her face. She slowly walked over to her make-shift desk, avoiding the gaping hole in the floorboards and gracefully perched herself on the faded chair. A grin spread over her face and she let out a little tinkling laugh like the peal of a bell, a silver bell. It was a strange sound, alien, foreign to her. She rarely laughed. Myrnin, confused, uneasily plopped back down in his own chair.

"Amelie?" he asked, cautiously. She leered at him, laughing harder now, her whole body shaking with her deranged laughter. Tilting her head to the right she turned to face him, questioning him with her eyes, asking him why he wasn't in tune with her haphazard humor.

"Amelie?" he repeated.

"What?" she asked, giggling hysterically.

"Why are you laughing? This isn't funny!" Myrnin said frustrated now.

"Yes it is!" Amelie exclaimed, "She's gone and made herself famous, more famous than any king or queen!" Amelie was still laughing, laughing harder now as if her own voice was the continual for her mad laughter.

"Stop it! I said this wasn't funny!" Myrnin yelled, bounding toward Amelie and grabbing her by the wrists, leaning over the rotted desk, a look of rage marring his smooth features, "Stop it right now, Amelie!"

Amelie abruptly stopped laughing and the sudden silence was deafening. Her eyes fled amusement and took on an offensive look reminding Myrnin that no matter how distressed he was, no matter how familiar he and Amelie were, he could never, under no circumstances treat his queen in that manner.

"Take your hands off me, Myrnin," Amelie practically growled through gritted teeth. Her eyes were swirling with red and white as she felt her power and let a tendril of it into the room smothering him. He gasped, backing off and falling to his knees on the threadbare carpet in a sign of submission and acknowledgement of her power. His head hung in shame and he actually felt remorse, for they were friends and he had no right to treat her so harshly.

Amelie rose up from her chair and gracefully walked around the table towards him. Now standing in front of him she reached out and lightly touched his shoulder.

"Rise up Myrnin, you are forgiven," she whispered breathlessly, her voice sounding like flying wind. Cautiously Myrnin rose up to his full height and voiced his apology which Amelie accepted with a curt nod.

"I believe that we have some research to do Myrnin. I have a feeling, a feeling that caused me amusement, that Claire has created this fame to act as a form of armor against me. She has created not only present body guards and security but also the protection of millions of adoring fans. I'm sure you understand that the only reason she would create an army of protection for herself was if she remembered this town and had no desire to return to it. I also am sure you can understand why I cannot allow this," Amelie stated in a cold, detached voice, carefully analyzing Myrnin's reactions. Myrnin took care to also keep his voice cold and detached, using his height to attempt to suggest that he knew better than her, it was a lost cause, no one could outdo Amelie.

"Your grace, as true as that may be I am finding it to be a bit of a stretch, so to speak. Claire would have had to have gone through extreme amounts of effort to conceive this plan and from the very start there was no guarantee that it would even work out in the slightest. I do not see young Claire taking such risks or dramatic measures. In fact she is rather ingenious and would have seen that her smartest move would have to never under any circumstances, voice to anyone or inscribe anywhere, anything that she might have remembered. Her first hand knowledge from that boy of hers adheres to that."

"Exactly Myrnin. Either is a possibility among hundreds, that is why I said that we need to conduct some _research_ in support of a theory and as stretched as what my thoughts may be, I have never run this town on assuming things and taking no precautions. I will not be foolish enough to let her destroy us, intentionally or unintentionally," Amelie finished with a flourish, striding over to his computer and gesturing for him to take a seat, her words degrading him and making him appear thoughtless and foolish.

Myrnin ground his teeth and obediently followed her and sat down. He searched through his browser, uploading all her interviews, looking for key words such as vampires and Morganville. She only spoke of Morganville to say that she had lived there for two years, attending the university there and that it was a typical small town, boring and uneventful and she spoke once on vampires, this only pertaining to her thoughts on the new Twilight movie. She commented saying that she thought the whole thing sounded ridiculous, that people believing, loving such horrid creatures was unimaginable and that people should not dawdle in fantasy, in things unproven by science. Myrnin couldn't help but feel a little offended at this, hadn't he taught her that science was an infant? That science was just beginning and that vampires were proof of this infancy? Hadn't he taught her that they weren't so bad after all that they could care, could feel? He certainly didn't think himself horrid.

On the other side he was relieved as this only proved that Claire had indeed forgot everything and that she was safe in her own world. He found great comfort in that.

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The sun rose and then it set, still they continued look, searching for any clues that Claire remembered. Myrnin doubted that they'd find anything, either she didn't remember or she did and would never breathe a word. Either way, she would remain safe and he would remain content.

Hours later Amelie rose from her seat and walked over to the table which showed a map of sorts, a map to all the websites featuring little Claire. The table was scattered with the names of every site that featured her and a copy of every magazine she was in, alphabetical lists kept records of all her music and all the talk shows and interviews she had, had. At the top was a copy of her bio and the rest was organized in pristine, white rows. The sheer amount was impressive and Amelie shook her head in frustration. So far there was nothing, nothing at all.

Myrnin personally felt slightly disgusted at the way she was advertising herself but found her heartfelt interviews delightful and charming. It was good to see that behind the glossy covers, fortunes of fashion and pounds of make-up was still the same old Claire that he was familiar with; not all had been lost after all. This still didn't change the fact that he wasn't happy about what she was doing or how everyone had such an open view of her, but these where modern times and modern times deemed this acceptable. Amelie remained unfazed and her amusement controlled, her mad laughter never resurfacing.

"Are you sated? Are you convinced of her innocence yet? Is your mind at ease?" Myrnin asked, hoping that long hours of research had come to an end. He didn't mind the act of researching, in fact he found it necessary and useful, but again he didn't like seeing Claire as this "pop star".

"Almost," Amelie seemed to promise, "I asset that nowadays young artists put their truest feelings in the form of riddles in their music. I discern that perhaps it might be a capital idea to listen to a few of her songs, to see if she has unknowingly left some trace behind and besides I am curious as to see what kind of music this girl can conjure."

Myrnin felt this was useless, that they wouldn't find anything more, Claire would have been too cautious, but he knew that trying to persuade Amelie otherwise was a waste of time.

Nodding his head he turned back to the bleary screen, compiling a list of her top songs, singles, newest releases and most viewed music videos on YouTube. It was a long list of over thirty different songs, a good 2 hours worth. This was unusual for an artist, having so many songs in a single year. He wondered how she had the time to make this all along with starring in two movies and gracing not only the fashion week in New York but the ones in Pairs, Milan, Tokyo and London. This girl was truly amazing by anyone's standards.

Motioning to Amelie that he was ready he began to play her latest top single, "_Disturbia_"

_It's a thief in the night to come and grab you, it can creep up inside and consume you,_

_A disease of the mind it can control you, I feel like a monster, oh!_

_Put on you're pretty lies, you're in the city of wonder_

_Ain't gonna play nice, watch out you might just go under_

_Better think twice your train of thought will be altered_

_So if you must falter, be wise_

Amelie stiffened and so did Myrnin. These lyrics weren't enough to prove she remembered anything, but they were just too damn close. At this point he realized that both he and Amelie were hoping to find nothing, that Amelie was hoping that she wouldn't have to kill her, that Claire could find happiness away from this hell. He turned to the next song, his hope fading like smoke that this would be the only that would strike close to home, that they could write it off as pure coincidence. If only they could be that lucky.

From _"Run the World"_

_My persuasion can build a nation,_

_Endless power, a love that we can devour_

_You'll do anything for me_

_Who runs the world? Girls!_

At this point Myrnin found himself truly disgusted with this and stood up from his chair, moving to leave. He simply couldn't stand the sight of Claire in skimpy clothes, dancing for all to see. He wasn't used to seeing her as sexy, surely he saw her as beautiful but not sexy. The sight of her body, her fearless smile as she danced, it was honestly mesmerizing and sent Myrnin an assemblage of feelings he wasn't ready to deal with. She was most definitely beautiful and she could dance, she could dance _very_ well. Myrnin shook his head to clear his thoughts, his hands gripping his hair in clusters.

Amelie lightly touched his shoulder and gently pushed him back to the desk and back into his seat.

"We must finish this. Remember Myrnin, this is all common for mortals of these ages. You cannot let it get to you. It is still the Claire you know," Amelie whispered softly, urging him to return to the search and not to dwell on things that upset him for she knew how fragile his anger made him.

From _"Uprising"_

_They will not force us_

_They will stop degrading us_

_They will not control us_

_We will be victorious_

This didn't sound very much like Claire. Claire wouldn't lead an uprising. She would be supporting equality on both sides not starting a war. Amelie was confused. As much as it seemed that Claire remembered it also seemed as if she couldn't remember exactly who she was, as if everyone was all jumbled up in her head and she had no idea which character she was. Another one particularly caught Myrnin's attention, the lyrics almost scared him. These careful, cryptic words painted a perfect picture of his earlier madness, of how he still felt sometimes.

From _"Meds"_

_I was alone, falling free,_

_Trying my best not to forget,_

_What happened to us, what happened to me,_

_What happened as I let it slip_

…

_Baby, did you forget to take your meds?_

_Baby, did you forget to take your meds?_

From _"Vox Populi"_

_This is a call to arms, gathered soldiers, time to go to war_

_This is a battle song, brothers and sisters, time to go war_

_Did you ever believe? Were you ever a dreamer?_

_Ever imagine heart open and free?_

_Did you ever deny? Were you a traitor?_

_Ever in love with your blood lust and need?_

…

_Darkness falls. Here comes the rain to wash to away the past and the names_

_Darkness falls. Here comes the rain to end it all, the blood and the game._

_Far, far away, in a land that time can't change, _

_Long, long ago, in a place of hearts and ghosts_

These were just sample from songs a many.

As tenacious minutes stretched on Myrnin became more and more scared and Amelie became more and more convinced that Claire remembered everything. In fact the evidence was piling up, song after endless song showed that Claire held snippets of her greatest and most terrifying moments in Morganville. Her safety was now in abundant danger. Myrnin returned to his earlier frantic pacing.

Yet Myrnin still felt a strange happiness. She remembered! She remembered him! She had to have! Now the only thing left to do was to save her from herself, from Amelie.

Amelie.

Dread quickly smothered out his sudden elation much like the terrible wrath of his mistress and he slowly turned around, slowing his mad pace and stopping his motion to face Amelie, deathly afraid of what her sentence would be, already knowing but secretly hoping. She couldn't just die, his little Claire couldn't just die! He had solemnly vowed to save her no matter the cost.

Looking into Amelie's gray eyes he knew that the cost would be very great indeed.

"She remembers."

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	3. Dreams

**From Claire's point of view.**

I didn't remember anything.

Well at least I didn't remember _much_ of anything. I only remembered that there was something that I wasn't supposed to remember and if I did remember what I wasn't supposed to remember then there was going to be trouble.

I might as well have remembered nothing for what I did remember wasn't worth remembering, it only scared me. Kind of.

It was more like a dream. You know, the feeling you get when you wake up and you remember that you were dreaming but you can't actually remember anything about the dream save one little thing, one useless thing. You remember something silly like Scooby Doo was there, or I was eating ice cream, we were underground, or it was winter. Sure I guess that that's remembering _something_ but not really _anything_ that can give you a clue as to what the dream was actually about. My useless clue was Morganville.

This, in my case, is even more ridiculous because that's the place I had been living in for the past two years and let me tell you, there is absolutely _nothing _extraordinary about Morganville. I think I would have remembered something extraordinary about the place, I mean I live _there_ and there is zip, zap, nada. It's a hot, dry desert with one giant bowl of sun. That's all there is to it! Well except for the fact that the place has been haunting my dreams, my real dreams, not just my weird feeling dreams.

My subconscious is screaming at me that there is something I'm not remembering about this place, something colossal. I just don't understand how that's possible though. How can someone forget something that's really important? It really does feel important. It feels like I'm forgetting my own mother's name which is rather impossible, unless of course you have dementia, which I most certainly don't, but that's how it feels. I hate it.

But yet I love it, it's one of those love/hate relationships. Because you see this mystery, this nagging feeling, these psychedelic dreams are my inspiration.

I dream of fantastic things, of bizarre and remarkable people. My dreams are filled with blood and passion and loyalty and an ever vigilant fight for goodness. I have visions of a woman dressed in white, so icy in manner that her mere gaze annihilates enemies and forces people to their knees. I see a man beside her, black in dark leather, a merciless grin on his face. He is the hand of her justice. Another man floats close, he's transparent, his skin drained white and the only color that is still his is flaming red hair. He screams like an angel holding a blazing sword and says he believes in us. Pale creatures close around me and someone else, someone I can never fully see, only glimpse, is there. He's tall with thick curly hair, black soulless eyes and deadly white fangs. I love him. He's always protecting me from the pale creatures, from the distant gunfire, from the infernal singing and sometimes even from the white woman and her two companions. He's always with me. I love him.

The whole vision is swirled with bluish-white light that creates a border, a confinement around my dream world.

It angers me that I can't fully see him, my protector. I know he's beautiful and I every time I dream of him I simply want to gaze him, let myself be enthralled by his captivating charm and mesmerizingly good looks. I can't. There's always someone else calling to me, a different man. He's with one of the pale ones and a fake-pale one. I love them too.

Sometimes I'm not myself in my dreams, sometimes I'm watching myself. Sometimes I find myself as the fake-pale one and sometimes I find myself as the white queen. These images are disorienting and I remember the least when I'm them.

This is my inspiration.

All my songs that I write, every time I look into a camera for a photo, every time I'm walking down the runway, every time I'm acting, I'm emulating one of them. They are the basis for me, they create me.

I never actually wanted to be famous. It's just that after I left college I lost my dream. I just stopped desiring to go around science. It just didn't feel the same anymore, didn't feel right. I was always having these dreams and they were so overpowering that I felt this instant inspiration to create something from it, so I wrote a song and then I wrote another and then in less than two days I had written my first album, _Good Girl Gone Bad_. The title just seemed perfect somehow.

I convinced my parents to let me move to Los Angles and I spent two weeks recording my new life.

I never expected the album to become famous at all but it did and it did very fast. One month after it's release I was rocking the top of the charts. Suddenly offers came pouring in for me to do this and that. I guess I just got caught up in it all. It seemed like a good idea for I had a never ending source of inspiration and it helped me cope with this thing I wasn't supposed to remember but was trying all the time to. My fame became my armor.

Six months later I had released another album and one more single and had been in my very first movie. I was very, very famous.

Honestly it kind of felt wrong though, like I was using this gift in the wrong way, that I needed to be somewhere else, doing something else. It felt like I was missing something, forgetting something and no matter how many therapy sessions I went to I still couldn't remember anything that I felt I was supposed to. I was miserable.

Shrugging off this feeling I set to work, attempting to make myself the best known nineteen year old in the world and as you surely know by now that's exactly what I am. It's still not enough. I still want more. Not more fame, more memories, more clues. I crave them every single second of every single day. And that man, my protector from my dreams, I can't help but feel that he's real, that he symbolizes some real protector I have. I love him. I need to find him. I am miserable. I need to go home. I need to go to Morganville. I need to remember.

I can't go home. I can't remember. I'm no longer a geeky college student. I am a star. I need to shine. I don't want to. I am miserable.

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These thoughts all raced through my head at a blinding speed as they tended to do every morning when I got up. They usually ruined my day. That meant every day was ruined. I was really starting to feel depressed, suppressed.

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP!

Groaning I rolled over in bed, half-heartedly smacking my alarm and rubbing sleep from my eyes. It was time to get up. Oh joy.

I sat up in bed, assessing the state of my room.

I had recently redecorated; the all white theme that I had originally loved was starting to make my room feel like a room in a psych ward. I was crazy enough and I surely didn't need to have a visual on exactly how crazy I was.

The walls were painted a shade of blue as my manager had instated; something to do with productivity. The bedspread was black and the furniture was white, pillows and cushions were the color yellow and the metal accent was chrome. The room had a weird feel to it, something cold and detached mixed in amongst my comforting anime posters and misshapen stacks of mismatched books.

It had been designed for me that room, in a coming together of my team which consisted of managers, publicists and parents. The whole thing was supposed to be "Zen", supposed to help be create and find myself, but honestly it just felt like a hotel room, temporarily comforting but definitely not mine. I usually slept down in the lab on my favorite red leather couch. That room was certainly more my style with the mismatched furniture, jumbles of computers and lab equipment, old wooden bookcases and stained lab tables. The place felt exactly like home.

My mother called it a interior designers worst nightmare.

I didn't really care for her opinion, it was my work space and I kept it just the way I liked it, organized and clean but with a well-lived in feel. It was a quiet place, a place to escape to.

Honestly, I never got to go down there much. I was _supposed_ to be conducting research for my undergrad, I was _supposed_ to be studying for my classes and exams, I was _supposed_ to be figuring the world out, but I wasn't. I was singing, writing, talking, laughing, shopping, posing and being otherwise occupied with things that seemed pointless. I_ loved_ it, reveled in it. Music and acting, they were my escape. Something had changed within me after I left my first years at college at TPU, I wanted to be able to really experience life.

Here I was barely nineteen and I had never done the little things, like gone to concerts with my friends, stayed up all night partying, kissed a stranger, danced on tables like no one else was there, I had done nothing but study, study, study. Oh, and don't get me wrong I do love my science, I love my world of logic and proportions and reason and facts, but I needed to be a little stupid before I made a life entirely committed to it. It was my bachelor party of life.

Two more years tops and I was back to school, I had promised myself that much. It was fun to be me, but I knew that one day I was going to wake up and wonder what the hell I was doing. On that day I would go back to school, back to science. I estimated three years.

If only the dreams would go away, then life could be perfect.

I laughed to myself, nothing was ever perfect and this was as close as I was gonna get. I might as well stop fretting about the little things and start letting the wild side out.

Now smiling, I climbed out of bed, yanked on a robe and bounded down stairs to the waiting smells of coffee and bacon, stopping briefly to pick up a letter someone had pushed under my door.

**I hope you guys liked this one. It is from Claire's POV so I tried to make it sound very different from the other chapters, I really hope that the mood and tone changed with her. Tell me what you think!**

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	4. The Letter

**So here it is, Chapter 4. If you'd paid any attention to the end details in the last chapter you will see that it is a continual from chapter 2 and is set before Claire's POV in chapter 3. Enjoy!**

"Amelie please!" Myrnin begged. He was used to begging, but only to Amelie. He found himself constantly asking her for more this and that, begging her to let him experiment and buy such chemicals and most recently he found himself begging for Claire's life. Repeatedly. And it was not making him happy.

Myrnin had spent half his remarkably long life not being happy, the past century in particular, and he was sick and tired of things not ever going his way. Amelie would have made up some ridiculous excuse for these feelings saying that it was his madness making him human, but Myrnin knew that it was actually his vampirism that was causing this sudden…panic. Vampirism, as Amelie liked to preach, made one selfish, that self preservation was the main emotion that ruled them and Myrnin had for the most part agreed with her, until Morganville that is. Until Morganville Myrnin had been occupied with only himself and his studies, his only contact being when someone was crucial to his experiments. Then everything changed.

Amelie had come to him one day and said very plainly that they, as a race, were dying, every last single one. He remembered thinking that she must be trying to trick him, that she wanted him dead, but time showed true enemies and friends and he knew that no matter how vengeful and controlling vampires might be that they were in this together. She drew up plans with his help among highly trusted others for a haven, for a town that would be there salvation.

Almost a full decade of planning had been put into action before any actual building had gone underway and in that time he had spent ninety five percent of it with Amelie, the only time they parted was for feeding or some rare sleep and they usually went hunting together. After all that time in constant contact he had found out much about her that she had previously kept hidden and they had become close friends. Not that they hadn't been friends from the beginning, but now it was the true kind, the I-would-put-myself-in-danger-to-keep-you-safe kind that was _very_ rare amongst vampires. During that time Amelie had proven herself a great and thoughtful leader and a surprisingly caring one. She had earned his utmost respect and gratitude and again this was not something that he hadn't had before, but now it had become more genuine somehow. They trusted each other.

The rules of Morganville had been created in those years. They had been harsher then, less human friendly. Now, because of Sam, because of Claire, the rules were changing, all of them except for the most basic. Vampires were better than humans.

Except that Claire wasn't less than him. He didn't view her as his human pet that he could simply die and nor did he own her, or rather he did own her, but not in a slave sense, in a sense that's old, now, far too old for a modern mind like hers to grasp. One that developed from respect and care and great deeds of service. But still he knew she wouldn't understand. So, he kept quiet.

He had always followed Amelie's lead, everyone did, even when he knew she was wrong and he had always put his full faith in her, doing everything he could to protect; he was always doing favors for her and now for the first time he was going to ask her to repay his kindness. He was going to speak up. He was going to ask her to listen.

Myrnin sincerely doubted she would.

"She is a threat to this town. She could ruin everything that I've worked for, that we've worked for! There is no discussion," Amelie articulated, in a cold, detached state that had always made her seem so invincible.

"You didn't kill Sam," Myrnin said, glaring at her now. He hated her, he hated that invincibility.

"What?" she hissed spinning around, fangs snapping into place and a strangled look twisting her normally beautiful features. He had hit a deeply bruised spot. Pain flashed briefly across her eyes turning them a light red before freezing back into their harsh grey color. "Sam is _dead_!"

"But you didn't kill Sam when he told you that he showed Jason how to use the portals. That was a threat, _he_ was a threat. But you loved him and that's all that mattered. I _care _about Claire. It's _my_ turn to play judge and jury and I get to decided what the threat is! _She is not!_" His own fangs snapped down and his eyes turned a brilliant crimson. He growled at Amelie, hands curled into claws, staking towards her with elegant steps.

"He wasn't a threat! The damage had been wrecked! There was nothing that I could have done!" Amelie almost screamed.

"You don't really believe that do you? Had you punished him then, he'd still be alive." Myrnin growled, no sympathy entering his voice.

Amelie hissed again, her own eyes regaining their red. She stood still, absolutely motionless as Myrnin prowled about her, all frozen except for her eyes which never left his.

"Do you dare to fight me, old friend?" Amelie asked with a light voice, but the venom never left her eyes and her stance remained tensed for an attack.

"Friend? Friend's don't kill friend's friends." Myrnin replied, a sarcastic tone mocking through his voice. "Well," he licked his lips and tilted his head sideways, pausing to reflect on his words, "that's entirely debatable, but still."

"Enough, Myrnin." He continued to circle her, now moving towards her back. "Enough!" He words rang out, thickened with compulsion causing him to pause and that manic light began to dim in his dark eyes and he moved to face his friend, hands held palm up in surrender.

"I'm sorry, old friend indeed. My old habits sometimes get the best of me." He shook his head briefly in his form of shame – which wasn't great or that heartfelt. "Still, that does not change my position. I cannot let the girl die and I especially cannot let her die on your orders. There must be another way."

Amelie paused, looking exhausted for a moment and settled down into a nearby leather chair with plush pillows and big, winged arms. Her gaze was distant, but it steadily focused, eyes on Myrnin.

"Perhaps you are right, fool. Perhaps, I do care and perhaps you do to. Perhaps I hadn't served action where I normally would have because I let my emotions get in the way. Perhaps, sometimes, that is quite alright." She sighed, looking even worse now, filled with memories she cherished and reveled in, but would still rather forget.

Myrnin crossed the room, kneeling directly in front of her on the ruined carpet and respectfully rested both his hands lightly on her knees. They stared at each other, stuck like that, centuries of understanding and empathy passing between them.

"How may I serve?" Myrnin said, not bothering to let the hope read clearly on his face.

Amelie didn't respond for awhile, thinking up a carefully crafted plan, testing details and calculating percentages of outcomes. Myrnin patiently waited.

"If she were to return to Morganville, this problem might be solved, but only on the condition that she hasn't told anyone of her endeavors here." Amelie quickly glanced around the room, looking for the right journal. "There. Bring that one over," she said pointing to a leather bound journal resting on a table in the corner. Myrnin stood up and hastily fetched it, rapidly flipping through to refresh his once addled mind on the contents.

It contained all the physic history of the borders of Morganville and all records of effects on both vampires and humans who had left and returned, been allowed to flee or had been given permission to locate elsewhere. Useful to the current situation.

Amelie opened the book and began meticulously scanning through, looking for the right page while Myrnin flitted about the lab in one of his usual half manic states, nervously awaiting detail.

With a light dip of her head Amelie acknowledged that she had found information pertaining to what they were looking for and called Myrnin over with a twirl of a perfect, pale finger.

"Here." Amelie pointed to the name of a man who had been a Morganville resident many years ago. Myrnin leaned closely over her shoulder, bowing low to read clearly the spider-y script. "Adam Mathens. He requested to leave because of medical issues with his daughter in 1963. He then came back two years later, unannounced and unexpected, half mad with dreams and visions of vampires."

"I remember that!" Myrnin exclaimed to Amelie who looked genuinely surprised, he would have been severely mad himself with the sickness by then. "The case stuck out to me because he had forgotten who he was and was going mad by things in his mind that shouldn't have been there. It struck a personal chord, as I'm sure you can imagine. I do believe that he was "cured" of this madness as soon as he crossed town borders as all his memories returned."

"Anything else special about the case?" Amelie's eyes roamed over his thin face, hoping to find some spark that he himself was beginning to remember things long forgotten.

"No, no, no, no, NO! No, there isn't anything else. It's gone! All gone! Only that black, that red, that _hunger_." Myrnin shuddered and began frantically pacing, muttering to himself and wringing his hands in such violent jerks that the skin tore in some places and blood sprung up in delicate spirals. He didn't seem to notice.

Amelie silently stood up and walked to his side, reaching out to lightly touch his shoulder, offering her guidance and support. That rare glimpse of emotion revealing itself.

Myrnin stopped shuddering and pacing and fell against that touch, glad for the reassurance that the disease was gone, that it was over.

He nodded his head in a brief jerk to show he was alright and strode over to the table where she had left the open book.

"I'm finding, with my sincerest apologies my lady, that I'm not following your point on this. How is this related to Claire?" He stopped thumbing through the old, yellowed pages and lifted his head to look at her.

"I believe that Claire has things jumbled up, that she can no longer process who she was or what reality we offered her as memory, but all her memories in a clouded, faded form that come to her in dreams and visions. Those are the muses of her music." Amelie moved back to the desk, gracefully sliding into the seat, her former demeanor returning. "This versed case is the only one, no?"

"I cannot remember any others, mistress, and although my memory is not sufficient in remembering I do not think that there are any others." Amelie nodded. Myrnin sighed. "So Claire's an official threat now?"

"Yes, if this is true then our secrets are in even more danger than I originally thought." Myrnin growled a bit, low in his throat. "But soft, we have a chance of illuminating this peril with a diplomatic elucidation."

"And what is that, my queen?" Myrnin asked, softly now.

"We still simply have to lure her here and all will be well. This "madness" so to speak can be cured. Claire will return to Morganville. It was a careless and impulsive decision on my part to force her leave in the first place, I believe it is now coming back to bite me." She looked rather amused at self-created irony for a moment before returning to the matter at hand. "Now, only to find the means," she mused, brow furrowing delicately.

Myrnin let out a sharp, cruel laugh that was more of a bark and spun in his usual flourish to step to bow deeply before her, his face only a foot from the floor.

He snapped his head up, a devious smile ruining that innocently charm he exploited so efficiently, "You, my dear queen, may leave that to _me_."

Myrnin had decided to write a letter.

**Hope y'all liked this one! Since I was **_**really**_** disappointed with the current reviews, I've decided to bribe you! Seventh reviewer of this chapter get's to request an oneshot from me! So review!**


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